Hetalia Drabbles
by MyChemicalNations
Summary: Various short stories based off my Hetalia Nation Child AU. All stories in this book are set in the same universe and are posted in no particular order. The more you read about their world, the more you'll find out about it. I might put them in a proper order someday, Who knows? Enjoy!
1. Helena

A/N: This is just a little drabble I did for two of my Hetalia OC's. Just for context, this is from an AU where most of the nations have children. Alexander and Alexei happen to be the offspring of APH Austria and APH Russia, respectively. I hope you enjoy!

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Alexander asked shakily, his grip tight on the steering wheel. Alexei nodded and placed a gentle hand on Alexander's knee.

"Yes, I'm sure." He spoke softly. "We've been together for three years now. Why wouldn't I want to meet your mother?" Alexander's gaze flicked over to Alexei's face before returning to the road. He didn't speak for a while, leaving only the hum of the car engine and the sound of tires over tarmac to fill the silence between them. Finally, Alexander nodded.

"Okay." He said softly, trying hard to choke back tears as he pulled over next to the cemetery. It took Alexei a few moments to process, but between the quiet tears and Alexander exiting the car, it wasn't too difficult to read the situation. Alexei undid his seatbelt and followed Alexander. They walked in silence until they came upon a grave with a simple headstone that read "Helena Hartmann-Edelstein; A beautiful soul taken far too soon. May she forever rest peacefully." Alexander knelt down in front of it, pressing his fingers to his lips and then to the headstone. Against the headstone rested a framed photograph of a lovely woman and her family, all smiling brightly.

"Here she is…" Alexander gently picked up the photograph and handed it to Alexei.

Upon seeing it up close, Alexei saw that the woman - however beautiful she was, with her long, raven hair, bright green eyes, and sweet, loving smile - looked frail. She sat in a hospital bed, tubes and wires hooking her up to machines that were working to keep her alive, and yet she still smiled and wrapped her thin, weak arms around her children. Sighing, Alexander stood up.

"She's pretty." Alexei stood beside Alexander, carefully looking at the photograph. He could tell that the young children in the picture were Alexander and his twin sister, Maria. They smiled, and their smiles were cheerful. It was like they couldn't yet tell that their mother was dying.

"Yeah, she was… She died of cancer when Maria and I were ten. Papa insisted on using a picture where she doesn't look weak, but Mama wanted this one in front of her grave."

Alexander smiled weakly. "It's been awhile since I last came to visit her ...I miss her." Alexei knelt down and carefully placed the photograph back.

"Hello, . It's nice to finally meet you." Alexei smiled softly. "Xander's told me so much about you." Alexander watched, tears flooding his eyes again.

"Lex?" He questioned, hardly loud enough for him to hear himself.

"I heard you love drawing and painting. Xander must get it from you. You should see some of his pieces! Our art teacher, , keeps trying to convince him to submit them to the student exhibit at the gallery, but he never thinks they're good enough." Alexei laughed slightly, resting his head in his hand. "Maria's doing well, too. She recently got the lead role in our school play, and she was chosen as a soloist at her dance company's next contest! You must be so proud of your children." He stayed there, talking to Alexander's mother as if she were still alive, for a good hour or so. Alexander stood back, part way between laughing cheerfully at his partner and crying hysterically over his mother.

"Well, it was really nice to talk to you, ma'am. Before I go, I just wanted to say thank you. Your son means the world to me, and it feels wrong to not thank the woman that gave him life. You've raised such a wonderful young man…" This was the last straw for Alexander. He fell to his knees and began sobbing grossly into his hands. Alexei glanced over and then back at the grave. "I promise I'll take care of him." He mimicked Alexander's earlier action of pressing his fingers to his lips and then to the headstone. Then, he stood and walked back to Alexander, carefully helping him to stand. Alexander sobbed into Alexei's chest, clinging to him tightly. Slowly and gently, Alexei began leading Alexander back to the car. Once he was able to stop the tears, Alexander looked up.

"S-sorry…" He sniffled, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "I wasn't prepared for the emotional impact of that visit."

"It's fine, _Luchik,_ " Alexei said, smiling softly. "I'm glad I finally got to meet your mother."

"I think she was glad to meet you, too." Alexander forced a smile. "We should get home."

"We should. I'll drive." Alexei kissed the top of Alexander's head.

"Alright." Alexander climbed into the passenger seat, buckling up his seat belt. He looked over at Alexei as he climbed into the driver's seat. "I love you, Lex." Alexei looked back at him, a soft look on his face.

"I love you, too, Xander." He smiled, leaning over to plant a kiss on Alexander's cheek.


	2. History Repeats

"You never learn, do you?" Pavel kept a firm hand around Lizzy's arm as he pulled her out of the building. "You're going to end up getting yourself expelled!"

"So what?" Lizzy rolled her eyes. "Besides, it's not like I was wrong." She began recounting the incident as if Pavel hadn't been there when it happened. She spoke as if it were some perfectly innocent, comical happening, her voice full of cheer and humour as she described the teacher's face and the nervous anger in his tone when he asked her to leave. "Oh, the old man did not see it coming!"

"Elizabeth, you literally called our history teacher a fascist dictator." Pavel turned to look at her, his voice hushed but urgent. Lizzy frowned, pulling her arm from Pavel's grip.

"Like I said, it's not like I was wrong." Her arms crossed over her chest, Lizzy began walking past Pavel, who followed quickly behind.

"That's not something you just say to someone! As much of an ass as he is, is not a fascist dictator. Trust me, I'm from Russia. I know fascist dictators!" His eyes flicked around nervously as he checked to make sure no one could hear them. "That is a serious accusation to make."

"I thought Russia ended up with Communist leaders." Lizzy said, stopping beneath an old oak tree. She adjusted her red uniform skirt before sitting beneath the shade of the tree where it was significantly cooler than in the sun.

"Poorly executed communism that was bordering on fascism." Pavel corrected, holding his arms out. From that gesture, Lizzy could see that it was almost time for him to get a new blazer - the sleeves on his current one sat higher than his wrists. He remained standing. Lizzy just shrugged.

"Eh, whatever, Giraffe Boy." She say with her back against the tree and gestured to Pavel's arms. "Looks like you're starting to take after your brother."

"Don't change the subject." He pointed a finger at her. "And I am nowhere near as tall as Alexei; he's seven feet tall, I'm six-one."

"Still fucking tall. The Braginski family is a wild family of giants. Titans, even." Lizzy laughed to herself. It was a merry, melodic sound. Pavel sighed deeply.

"Regardless, don't ruin your chances of graduating this year. Unless you're really so desperate to graduate with me that you're willing to be held back a year." Lowering his arms, Pavel sat next to Lizzy beneath the tree. Lizzy made a face.

"Shallow threat. This place is a piece of shit. At least, the history department is. You'd think that a school originally intended for the Nation Representatives would have a better history curriculum." She reached into her beige shoulder bag and pulled out a pair of juice boxes, handing one to Pavel. "I don't know how your brother survived it." Pavel had to admit that she had a point. World W Academy, the international school that was originally built as a place of standard education and bonding for National Representatives like Lizzy and Pavel's fathers, now host the children of said NRs, as well as students from across the globe. Despite the global nature of the school, it was no lie that the current History department was… subpar, we'll say. He remembers hearing stories of different world events from his father and the other Nations. None of them matched what he was taught in History class. Herr Beilschmidt never sugar-coated the happenings of World War Two for the sake of the children's innocent ears. never acted like his people hadn't grossly mistreated the indigenous peoples of his colonies. never pretended that the history of his country wasn't filled to the brim with dark events. My father never denied the crimes committed by his bosses and his people. Pavel sighed as he took the juice box from Lizzy.

"I guess you're right…" He opened the juice box and took a sip, thinking. His thoughts wandered to Lizzy's beige shoulder bag. It had been a gift from her mother on her thirteenth birthday and Lizzy had used it almost everyday since. This had been shocking to nearly everyone in her life since the bag was so plain and dull, but Lizzy was so vibrant and outgoing. Even her school uniform had pieces of her own style - brightly coloured rubber bracelets and earrings, pins and buttons bearing the American flag, and a single embroidery floss bracelet bearing the Nigerian flag. "...Off topic, but how come you never put anything on your bag? I've never even seen you put a keychain or charm on it…"

"Hmm?" Lizzy hummed as she glanced at her bag. After a moment of thought, she shrugged. "You know, my mom was originally intending for me to decorate it. But I didn't want to, well, ruin the simple beauty of this bag all at once, so I decided to do something else." Pavel raised a dark eyebrow.

"Oh? And what would that be?" Lizzy opened the bag again, showing the small row of fifty or so small, red stars that were stitched into the bottom left interior of the flap.

"Every time we're fed false stories in History class, I stitch a star into the bag and record it in a journal." She ran her thumb over the last row of stars before reaching into her bag and pulling out a leather-bound notebook - given to her by her father in seventh grade. Pavel leaned closer and peered at the page Lizzy had opened her notebook to. He saw rows of Lizzy's neat, looping handwriting. "Some of them are more just silly mistakes, like 'November 17th, grade 10 'Hitler was born in Germany', but others are more… serious…"

"Like?" Pavel asked, skimming over the dates and stories.

"Shit like 'there's no threat of nuclear war in this day and age.'" Lizzy closed the notebook abruptly. "We're basically living in the Second Cold War. It's just a matter of how long it stays cold."

"Oh… yeah, I suppose that would be a bit more serious than forgetting where Hitler was born…" Pavel rested his head against the tree. "History really does repeat itself, huh?" Lizzy hummed her agreement and closed her bag, hiding the stars.

"Maybe one day we'll be the ones telling our kids war stories." She laughed, resting her head on Pavel's shoulder.

"Maybe we will be…" The bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. It only took a few moments for students to start flooding out of the school doors. Lizzy and Pavel watched as some of them passed before helping each other up. "My dad's here. See you tomorrow." Pavel waved goodbye to Lizzy before walking off.


	3. Homesick

Frosty air nipped at the noses of the students as they rushed around to greet their friends. Everyone was bundled up in various styles of scarves and jackets, some of them proudly bearing the school crest while others displayed the family name and homeland flag of the pupil wearing it. It had become a sort of trend - a defining mark of Westmont Academy's student body if you will. Even on regular days, where everyone's dressed in their smart-looking navy blue uniforms, a quick glance around any room will reveal all sorts of flag insignia - pins, buttons, even hair ties and neckties if it's an American student. There was no doubt that the students at Westmont were proud of where they came from.

Pavel never quite understood it. Sure, he wasn't ashamed of having been born in Russia, but he certainly didn't feel the need to flaunt it everywhere he went. As he stood by himself, glass doors and the school's walls protecting him from the winter air, he began to feel as though he was the only one that thought that way. Even sweet, quiet, hardly-there Claire could always be seen sporting the Canadian maple leaf on some part of her person, whether it be her black-and-red backpack or her t-shirts on dress down days.

"Hello, Pavel." A soft, sweet voice gently tugged Pavel from his thoughts. As if summoned by some unconscious call, Claire Williams stood beside him, her hands lightly gripping the strap on her violin case. Sure enough, she had her backpack slung over one shoulder and a Canadian flag pin secured to her blouse. "How are you today?"

"Good enough, I suppose." Pavel sighed, his mouth still struggling to form itself around the words - English was still a new language to him and he wasn't sure if he adored it for its subtleties or despised it for its difficulty. "And you?"

"I'm well." She smiled softly, pale violet eyes peering through the thick lenses of her glasses at Pavel. "Do you have a club meeting today? Usually, you're on your bus by now." Pavel shook his head and looked outside again.

"Just waiting for either Papa or Alexei to pick me up." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, sighing deeply. "Looks like it will be Alexei. Probably with Alexander."

"They've been spending a lot of time together lately, huh?" Claire followed his gaze to the black Kia that had just pulled into the parking lot. Through the driver's side window, the two could see Pavel's older brother, Alexei, laughing and smiling at someone else. Pavel shrugged.

"I guess so." He waited for Alexei to get out of the car. "I have to go now. Have fun at String practice." Waving farewell to Claire, who waved back with a sweet smile.

"Sure thing! Have a good evening." Pavel turned back to give Claire one last smile as he pushed the door open. The cold air hit him, sending a small shiver down his spine. He pulled his plain black jacket tighter around himself and quickly walked towards his brother's car. As he walked, snowflakes began slowly drifting towards the ground, then started to fall all at once. By the time he reached Alexei's car, his dark hair was covered almost entirely by snow. Alexei chuckled slightly.

"I think this is the most you've ever looked like me." He joked, brushing some of the snow off of Pavel's head. While Alexei had the same hooked nose, sandy blond hair, and violet eyes as their father, Pavel got their mother's straight nose, raven hair, and pale blue eyes. It wasn't uncommon for people to mistake the two for cousins as opposed to brothers.

"Hello to you, too." Pavel shook off the last bits of snow before climbing into the back seat. "Hello, Alexander."

"Hey, kiddo." Alexander, mid-way through tying up his long black hair, looked back over his shoulder to greet Pavel. If Alexei's eyes could be called pale violet, Alexander's were a royal purple - nearly black. Overall, Pavel had always thought that Alexander was rather handsome - a good match for his brother - but it was the shade of his eyes that fascinated him the most. "How was school?"

"It was good." He shrugged as he buckled up. From the driver's seat, Alexei gave him a look.

"No whacky stories from History class today?" Alexei questioned, eyebrow raised. Pavel shook his head. "That's a first." Shifting the car into drive, he pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive home. The first half of the trip was rather silent.

"I take it Xander will be joining us for dinner tonight?" Pavel broke the silence, briefly looking up from his phone. Alexei hummed merrily to confirm. "Does this mean I actually have to put effort into English grammar?"

"Yes," Alexander smiled back at him. "Yes, you do. Practice makes perfect, Velly. The same goes for everything." Pavel made a face the nickname.

"Easy for you to say, -three-languages." He leaned forward to poke Alexander's cheek. Alexander burst out laughing and reached back to poke the tip of Pavel's nose.

"I only learned English so quickly because that was the only way Maria and I could speak to Fidel and Theresa when our dads started dating. Spanish followed some point after that."

"So, how do you explain the three different German dialects you speak?" Alexei briefly glanced over.

"Oh, that's because my family couldn't decide which country to stay in, so my cousins and I all grew up in different German-speaking countries, speaking wildly different versions of the same language. It's lead to some rather silly debates." Alexander sighed, smiling slightly as he recalled some of the scenarios. "Like the one time I tried to cook something with Ann back when I was, like, ten. It took us half an hour to establish that the recipe needed two large tomatoes, and then another fifteen minutes for us to agree upon what a tomato was actually called."

"...Wow…" Pavel said flatly. "How different could it possi-"

"Very." Alexander and Alexei chimed in, cutting off Pavel's sentence. Pavel sat back, uttering a small 'okay then'. There were a few more moments of silence that only ended when Alexander's phone dinged.

"Who's that?" Alexei asked.

"Luana. She wants to know what people are doing for Christmas break." Alexander typed a message back and hit send. "So, what's your break look like?" Pavel answered first.

"A lot of sleep and waiting for January. You?"

"Travelling to see grandparents," Alexander said. "We're going back to Vienna for the first week, and then Barcelona for the second week."

"Sounds like fun." Pavel hesitated before finishing his thought. A heavy kind of sadness had come over him, weighing down his limbs and making him feel small. "I kind of wish we could go back to St. Petersburg for Christmas…" Alexei's face fell.

"You know that's not safe for us, Vel." His voice was quiet. "Especially if _she's_ still there." Pavel winced at the second half. He knew Alexei was referring to their mother, who had been the very reason their father had made the decision to move out of the country. He had to admit that she was a cruel woman, although it hadn't always been like that.

"I-I know…" He averted his gaze, hoping to hide the tears that had begun to well up.

"And it's not like we could stay with Babushka; She's taken Mama's side on this." Alexei continued, his tone growing increasingly saddened. He had a point. St. Petersburg, the hometown that Pavel missed so dearly, just wasn't safe for them to return to. Even after nearly five years, he still felt homesick.

Alexander cleared his throat slightly, shifting awkwardly in his seat. He was beginning to regret bringing up Christmas. Sensing the general discomfort in the car, Alexei sighed. "In any case, Aunt Yekaterina's going to be coming over with Uncle Sadik, Ludmila, and Nadezhda for dinner and presents on January sixth and seventh. I think Aunt Natalya will be coming, too." Despite the ease in his words, he seemed tense. Pavel nodded as he pulled his headphones out of his bag and plugged them into his phone. He turned on his music and sat staring out the window. In spite of all the bad things that had happened to his family in St. Petersburg, he couldn't shake that homesick feeling.


End file.
